


Shields

by dogmatix, norcumi



Series: Through a Mirror Darkly [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: GFY, Gen, Non-Canonical Character Death, Sith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogmatix/pseuds/dogmatix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/norcumi/pseuds/norcumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Sith Apprentice Obi-Wan and his Master undertake new missions, their misadventures taking them across the galaxy from Bandomeer, to Gala, and finally the war-torn Melida/Daan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shields

Obi-Wan calmed his mind, forcibly holding his anxieties and emotions at arm’s length. It wasn’t quite a Jedi technique, since he didn’t work to dispel his emotions, but it afforded him space to think, and he needed that. The last few months had been one new thing after the other, much of it bad for Obi-Wan’s emotional equilibrium. He appreciated the chance to meditate on it all, to try and come to terms with everything while they traveled. Even if the travel itself did take him further from the Temple every moment. He was both saddened and relieved by that. He knew he’d have to return there eventually, but he’d already changed so much, done things he’d never thought he’d do, and a part of him wasn’t sure that he wanted to return to the Temple, or that he even could.

No, no, he was centering on his anxieties again. Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan let the tension flow out of him. He could do this. He was the calm at the center of the storm.

Training to be a Sith wasn't at all what Obi-Wan expected. Not that he'd thought that far ahead, when he'd all but strong-armed Qui-Gon into accepting him as an Apprentice, on Bandomeer.

If someone had asked him, before he left the Temple, what he'd expect a Sith's training to be like, theoretically, and if he'd been given the time to think it over, he supposed he'd have come up with something vague about pain, and suffering, and the Master hurting the Apprentice.

The reality was much less dramatic, and didn't contain nearly the amount of maniacal laughter he would have expected. In fact, the idea of Qui-Gon laughing maniacally was funny because it was so improbable.

As for the training, so far it consisted of the non-Jedi variation on meditation, basic exercises with channeling the Dark side, and shielding.

Lots of shielding.

As his Master had put it, "For the next few years, you will be in the unenviable position of being a partially-trained Sith regularly visiting the Jedi Temple."

"Letting my shielding slip would be bad," Obi-Wan had filled in the blanks easily enough.

"Yes," Qui-Gon had agreed. "At best I'd be reprimanded for training you poorly. At worst we'd have to make a very quick run for it."

And so, shielding.

The Master-Apprentice bond let them get a sense of each other even under their shields, unless they specifically blocked it. Secretly, Obi-Wan was more than happy that Qui-Gon didn't feel the need to cut them off on that level. Maybe it wasn’t the Jedi way, but Obi-Wan couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty. Their first official mission to Gala had ended in Darkness and disarray. A success, yes, but a hard-bought one. Qui-Gon’s support afterwards had been – and continued to be – invaluable to Obi-Wan.

Obi's Master might be a Sith, but the feeling of solid strength and compassion through their training bond was as far away from the stern histories’ warnings of malicious Dark-users as Tatooine was from Coruscant.

It was....odd, to think of himself as a Sith. He'd been an Apprentice almost three months now, but the realization still blindsided him at times.

He had moments of doubt, when he remembered again where his training would lead him. To the Dark side. Anathema to everything the Jedi stood for. Yet, Qui-Gon was not evil, nor cruel.

There were some subjects that made Qui-Gon Jinn's eyes go dark with pain, and things he would not speak of, but anything directly affecting Obi-Wan he was more than happy to explain, discuss, or debate, including the Dark side, the nature of the Force, and the Jedi and the Sith.

Slowly but surely, Obi-Wan found himself settling into his new life.

Force help him, his new life as a Sith.

After the incident with Xanatos, they’d spent weeks on Bandomeer. It had been peaceful, if strange, but infinitely preferable in comparison to their first official mission.

The mission to Gala had quickly uncovered a political mess, and had included a side-trip into revolution and criminal organizations on a neighboring world. The highlight of the situation had been Obi-Wan on the wrong side of a memory wipe.

That had been...bad. Strapped down into a chair, quickly warming rods at his temples, there’d been the feel of something chewing into his mind, kicking memories up and sparking flashes of recollection, until he’d been able to feel the machine trying to clear the loosened memories away. Given the number of guards and the unlikeliness of escape, he’d fought back the only way he could. He’d applied Qui-Gon’s lessons in shielding, weaving the Force through his mind to anchor it against the memory wipe.

The machine had hummed away, sensation from his temples going from jarring to excruciating.

It had kept _digging_.

He’d been able to feel it grinding painfully down through his shields. Obi-Wan had had enough experience to know that his flimsy protection was about to buckle completely, but he was out of options.

In that moment he'd despaired – and opened himself up to it. He’d used the basic steps that Qui-Gon had been teaching him, just simple exercises to control and direct the Dark side. Those lessons had originally felt foreign and strange, not at all like working with the Light, and sometimes he hadn't liked it much. Right then, with a mind-wipe bearing down on him, it was the most natural thing in the world. The Darkness had rushed through him like a river, and he’d welcomed it.

With fear and pain and desperate anger, he’d pushed the wipe back, keeping it at bay until the primary technician had declared him “thoroughly cooked.”

Unable to do anything but slump down in the chair as they unstrapped him, Obi-Wan seethed with impotent hatred at his captors and wondered with dread if they were right.

After all, if he didn’t remember something, how would he know?

When the whole sorry mess was done with, Qui-Gon had checked Obi-Wan over, his light mental touch a gentle presence in Obi-Wan’s mind. Qui-Gon hadn’t found anything amiss, but they’d settled on a simple way to check by comparing their memories of their time together. Obi-Wan was still fretful though, and once Qui-Gon deemed him ready to return to the Temple, Obi-Wan would be having several long talks with his friends Bant, Reeft, and Garen.

For now, he just had to move on.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brought him out of his attempt at meditation.

“We’re about twenty minutes out,” Qui-Gon said. “Join me in the cockpit when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Master.” It would be a relief to reach the end of their journey. Three weeks’ travel was incredibly fast, considering they’d gone from galactic north all the way to galactic south, from one arm of the Outer Rim to the other, with a detour that took them almost to Coruscant. That had been the only way to stay on the major hyperlanes, and travel was still faster that way, even with the detour – Perlemian Trade Route to Hydian Way, then switch to the Corellian Run, and finally turn off onto the smaller hyper-route leading to Lanic, and from there to Zhar and off the routes completely to Melida/Daan. Still, three weeks was three weeks, and they hadn’t even stopped long enough to restock, only to take their bearings before diving back into hyperspace. There was a silver lining, however. Obi-Wan’s channeling of the Dark side to combat the memory-wipe had expanded his access to the Dark, and left it within easy reach, afterwards. That meant that his strength in the Dark side far outstripped his ability to hide his use of it. If nothing else, the trip was certainly providing him ample time to bring his mental shields up to par.

Obi-Wan was still only thirteen though, and even with meditation and shielding practice to occupy his time, he was getting twitchy. He sorely wanted somewhere he could stretch his arms out and not touch a bulkhead.

The Queen of Gala had granted them the use of one of her personal shuttles, and as such it was sleek, fast, and well-armed. It was also small, as shuttles went – just large enough for three people, if they were very friendly. The cockpit was almost as large as the sleeping quarters, and held three seats – pilot, co-pilot, and gunner. Obi-Wan had spent long hours in here, familiarizing himself with the controls. It had been something to do, to stave off boredom and anxiety both. It had also been a sensible precaution. With talks between the Melida and the Daan tribes breaking down, Obi-Wan and his Master were quite possibly flying into a civil war. Obi-Wan hoped Master Tahl was okay. She was a talented diplomat, and her mission had been to facilitate the peace talks between the two tribes. Nobody knew what had gone wrong, but it was clear something had.

Qui-Gon had referred to Master Tahl as a friend, and the Sith Master’s worry for her was a constant background presence across his bond with Obi-Wan. When Obi-Wan had asked if Master Tahl knew about Qui-Gon’s secret though, the answer had been a swift, if sad, ‘no.’

Slipping into the co-pilot’s seat, Obi-Wan looked out at the streaks of hyperspace and took a deep breath. He hoped this mission wouldn’t be as eventful as the previous one.

* * *

Their shuttle kicked out of hyperspace some 300 kilometers above Melida/Daan’s atmosphere, and suddenly Obi-Wan had a tangible problem to focus on.  He could feel the Darkness saturating the planet from _orbit_. By the pinched look on Qui-Gon's face, the Master didn't like that any more than his Apprentice did.

Hatred seethed around them as they descended, a caustic Darkness that burned murky and viscous. Generation after generation of civil war had embedded itself into the planet's Force signature like a strangling vine, narrowing the people's focus to revenge and violence, suspicion and intolerance. Obi-Wan had a bad feeling about Melida/Daan.

The planet certainly lived down to Obi-Wan’s expectations. Less than a day after their arrival, they’d been shot at, chased, and double-crossed. Apparently the Gala mission had set a trend. Or maybe it was just that Qui-Gon got sent to the hottest fires, and the Council trusted the Master to keep his student alive.

It was something of a shock to Obi-Wan when he realized that his own Darkness acted as a shield - a clear-burning flame driving back the murky fingers trying to twine into him. For all that it was tiring to keep a hold on the Dark, Obi-Wan now had incentive to do just that. Even when people were shooting at them.

Their official mission was to rescue Jedi Master Tahl. However, the situation on Melida/Daan, volatile at the best of times, had gained a new faction. No longer just the Melida and the Daan tribes at each other’s throats, the Young - combined children and teenagers from both tribes, mostly orphans - were defying traditional divisions to try and force a peace. Even though they had grown up in the middle of all this Darkness, they were willing to go against all tradition for it, even defying their own families.

Obi-Wan quickly made good friends among the Young, especially with the leaders, Nield and Cerasi. He admired their drive, their passion – and after all, wasn’t that exactly what Qui-Gon was trying to get him to both use and appreciate?

Currently underground, hidden in the system of tunnels where the Young lived, Cerasi and Nield were busy discussing the plan to distract the Melida and Daan. Nield had promised to help rescue Tahl in exchange for Jedi support of their cause. Obi-Wan winced as Qui-Gon offered to help with strategy, only to have both the leaders of the Young turn a cold, dismissive shoulder on him. Obi-Wan understood his friends’ disregard for what they saw as another know-it-all adult. Their own parents and elders had driven their world the brink of collapse, and could not be trusted to act in the best interests of their children. It still made Obi-Wan worry for them – if they couldn’t distinguish a true desire to help them from the hateful, dogmatic meddling of the Melida and Daan elders, Qui-Gon might decide that he simply couldn’t help the Young, even if he wanted to, and Obi-Wan wasn’t sure his Master would be wrong.

Qui-Gon interrupted Obi-Wan’s fretting, leaning down to talk softly to his anxious apprentice. "Come, we're going to go explore the tunnels for a while."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, still worrying at the problem of what to do, what to ask. He could practically feel the looks from Cerasi and Nield, their disapproval of calling Qui-Gon “master” heavy on his shoulders.

When they were a distance away, tucked into a cul-de-sac, Qui-Gon turned to him, folding his hands within his sleeves. “Speak your mind, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stood for a moment, head bowed and hands in fists. “I want to help them.” It was a mere whisper. He forced his voice a little louder. Not so much that any of the Young in range could hear, but enough to make sure he didn’t sound like a young, foolish coward. “I like the Young, and I _really_ want to help them. They’re trying to _stop_ the war, master. Doesn't that mean they should be helped?”

Qui-Gon didn’t answer immediately, and Obi-Wan felt his stomach tighten. “Yes, helping to stop the war is a good thing,” Qui-Gon finally declared, “but it might be a very long process. Although, if you _want_ to stay and help them, that would give you time to practice controlling and shielding your Dark-use better.” Obi-Wan’s heart did a few flip-flops. He could stay, he could _help_! Of course, that meant more shielding practice. “So I am willing to have us remain for a while, but _be aware_ that your judgement is slightly clouded.”

Gods, he couldn’t help but bristle at that. He wasn’t an idiot, or a youngling! If Qui-Gon wasn’t seeing that– “Maybe _your_ judgement is slightly clouded,” he snapped back.

Qui-Gon’s nod of agreement startled Obi-Wan, who’d been expecting a reprimand. “That is entirely possible. Is there anything specific you've seen that makes you think that?”

“What?” His Master was _agreeing_ with him?

Qui-Gon looked at him, patient and serene as a Jedi. “The Dark is _strong_ here. If I'm affected, I'm not completely sure I’d notice. Have _you_ seen any evidence of it?”

Obi-Wan tried to keep from gaping. “You...you’d trust me to spot that?”

That earned him a proud little smile, and a gentle hand on the shoulder. “You, better than anyone else on this planet.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and looked down at his boots, taking a moment to center himself. “You...might be a little angrier than usual – usually you hide it better, I guess. But that’s it.” He dared to glance up. “Have– have I been–?”

Qui-Gon’s face was grave. “We are under some pressure, and our previous travels have been…stressful. It is certainly reasonable for those factors to result in anger, even above and beyond your new training in the Dark side. I also understand that the Young are your friends, and you are worried for them. So, it’s possible you have valid reasons for suddenly wanting nothing more than to stay here and help the Young, but from my admittedly limited point of view, it is both sudden and unlike you.”

“I...I guess, they’re just – they’re fighting so hard for peace, and they’re doing it all on their own! Qui-Gon, they deserve our help!” His master crossed his arms and sighed. Obi-Wan bit back a growl. He’d been sure he’d gotten through to the man. “I knew you wouldn’t understand!”

“You think I’m about to disagree with you?” Qui-Gon asked mildly, though Obi-Wan detected something fierce behind the façade.

“...Aren’t you?” Obi-Wan dared to challenge, mulish and not much caring.

“Peace on this world would benefit everyone. The Young _do_ deserve help, and their goals are noble. I have some reservations about their methods, but not about their goals.”

Obi-Wan scowled at the non-answer. “So are you disagreeing with me or not?”

“Apprentice,” Qui-Gon growled, twisting the title into reproof. “I am giving you information, so that you can understand my reasoning.”

Obi-Wan looked back down, chastised but not ready to back down.

“I don't know how much good _the two of us_ can be in this situation. Ending the civil war here is not our mission, and the aftermath of a victory can be more challenging than the war itself.” Obi-Wan scowled and looked up, only to blanch a bit at Qui-Gon’s equally dark look. “ _However_ , if you feel this strongly about it, and _if_ , after we have rescued Tahl, we have the opportunity to stay a while, we can.”

Obi-Wan blinked and stared. “We– we can?”

“Say, a month. At the end of that time, we take stock of how much use we're being in this situation, and decide if we leave or stay longer. I will not have us spend our lives fighting an endless war, as the Melida and the Daan have.”

Obi-Wan blinked some more, the words finally sinking in. He bit his lip, then decided to ask, even if it did go against his interests. “But...won’t you get in trouble with the Council?”

Qui-Gon snorted. “I’ve been to the Temple recently _and_ I’ve taken a ‘Padawan.’ I can fuck off for a month or two without them breathing down my neck too hard.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide at _Qui-Gon Jinn_ using language like that. He settled for a small bow and a cheeky grin instead, declaring, “Yes, my Master,” and getting a smile in return.

* * *

Reality, of course, had to go and throw a giant hydrospanner into their vague plans. The rescue mission was a success. Sort of. They retrieved Master Tahl. She was alive, but she couldn’t see anything, and she’d taken a nasty knock on the head in addition to having been starved and tortured. While there was nothing warning of her immediate death in the Force, things felt...complicated. They couldn’t tell what longer term effects it would have, she wasn’t very lucid, and Qui-Gon could _feel_ the Dark wrapping around her core, leaving murky tracks throughout her spirit and slowing her healing.

They knew they needed to get her back to Coruscant. The Young, in the meantime, wanted Obi-Wan to use the shuttle to take out the capital city’s defenses so that the Young could launch a major offensive to follow up their previous victory. If handled right, it could spell major progress towards the Young’s goal. The shuttle wasn’t the only space-worthy ship on the planet, but it was the best and fastest option – particularly when flown by a pilot who could use the Force to their advantage.

For a wild, guilty moment, Obi-Wan considered simply taking the shuttle without Qui-Gon’s knowledge, but no, even if it meant an argument, he wouldn’t go behind his Master’s back like that.

Obi-Wan was right about the argument. It was furious but quiet, conducted in hissed voices and with short, sharp gestures. Ultimately, Tahl’s condition not being improved enough to move her, combined with the urgency of the moment and that use of the shuttle could significantly advance the Young’s chances of victory, tipped the scales in Obi-Wan’s favour.

With Qui-Gon’s blessing and encouragement steadying him through their teaching bond, Obi-Wan piloted the shuttle while Nield and Cerasi manned the weapons, taking out the deflector shields around the capital. Reading the currents of killing intent and malice in the Darkness around him, Obi-Wan danced the shuttle around blaster shots with supernatural precision. It was impossible to avoid all enemy fire, but the shuttle took only a few dings, and Obi-Wan got it back in one piece. Qui-Gon met them in the pre-dawn light, Tahl in his arms. The ebullience and high spirits from Nield and Cerasi flipped over into dismay so quickly that Obi-Wan had to catch himself on the shuttle’s doorframe.

The Young leaders watched with disapproving glares as Qui-Gon greeted him. The instant his Master was in the shuttle, they converged on Obi-Wan, accusing him of bending to an elder’s will, of allowing his Master to take resources they needed.

Obi-Wan stood his ground, tapping in to his own Darkness and keeping it between himself and the planet’s grim atmosphere. Logic prevailed, if barely. While the Young could make use of the shuttle, Tahl _needed_ to get off planet and to healers. Qui-Gon had made it clear he would return as quickly as possible, and while the ship would be nice to have, it was not _essential_. Besides, if they really needed another shuttle or a starfigher, Obi-Wan was pretty sure he could steal one from somewhere.

The missions since leaving the Temple had certainly eroded his morals to an alarming degree, Obi-Wan thought with a twinge of guilt. He was still mulling over the disheartening confrontation when Qui-Gon approached him, ready to leave. Obi-Wan hopped to his feet. “Master.”

Qui-Gon had a faint, tired smile for him. “Everything is set. Remember, if you need or want assistance, I’m only a com-call away, or use the bond if all else fails. In the meantime, practice your shields.”

Obi-Wan smiled in spite of himself. After everything, shielding hadn’t seemed quite so important, but of course Qui-Gon wouldn’t let that slide. “Yes, Master. I...but...what if I can’t improve enough?”

Qui-Gon’s smile remained tired, but it deepened into something real. “You can. It might take you a while, but you can. If you can’t shield well enough to return to the Temple when this mission winds up, I’ll discover a new crisis we absolutely have to attend to, in quite the opposite direction of Coruscant.”

He ducked his head in a bit of a nod, still worried but now a little heartened. “Yes, Master.” He could feel something strange through their bond, something he tentatively wanted to label affection mingled with insecurity, with a dash of hope.

“Also...I have something for you.” Obi-Wan blinked. That was unexpected. At his questioning look, Qui-Gon reached into a small pocket sewn into the inside of his tunic and pulled out a small stone, smooth black until the light glimmered off of it in streaks of red. “This is from my homeworld.”

“A rock,” Obi-Wan half stated, half asked.

“Mm.” Qui-Gon had that funny expression that was almost a smile, neither mocking nor revealing. “Here.” He placed it into Obi-Wan’s hands, watching patiently as his apprentice turned it over. There were indeed veins of red running through it, lending a subtle shimmer to the stone.

“It’s...pretty?” Obi-Wan ventured, not quite thinking he was being mocked, but – a rock?

“Yes, it is.” Qui-Gon’s grin was gentle as he closed Obi-Wan’s hands around the stone. “But close your eyes and concentrate on it.”

He was rather confused, but he obeyed. After a moment of reaching out his Force senses, his eyes flew back open as he gasped. “It has a Force presence! It feels...warm. Good.” Obi-Wan blushed, darting a glance upwards as he realized he sounded rather silly.

Yet Qui-Gon’s expression had softened. “Yes. I use it as a meditation aid. It reminds me that there is always Light, even in the worst Darkness, even when I feel lost.”

“...oh.” He stared down at the small rock with more than a touch of awe. “Thank you. I'll keep it safe for you.”

His master shook his head, pulling back with another smile. “It’s yours now. A gift. I know I haven’t given you a gift for your birthday yet, but –”

“No, this is fine!” Obi-Wan blurted out, shaking his head quickly. It was traditional for a Master to give their Padawan a thoughtful, sometimes expensive gift for their thirteenth birthday, but Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had been on Bandomeer at that time, and the pickings had been slim. “I – I mean –” he ducked his head, hand gripping the smooth rock close. “Thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan’s shoulder a quick, reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Obi-Wan nodded as they moved a pace apart, appearing as proper Jedi. “Thank you, Master.” It was an impetuous act, leaning back in to give Qui-Gon a quick hug, but one Obi-Wan did not regret. “I’ll be waiting.”

* * *

The trip back to Coruscant was uneventful, though Tahl’s condition kept things interesting.

Even with the void of empty space between them, Qui-Gon’s connection to his Apprentice flickered with a myriad of emotions, the Darker ones prominent but under control. While a part of Qui-Gon regretted taking Obi-Wan as his student, regretted corrupting the bright light of a potential Jedi, even with consent…

He had to admit he’d missed this sensation; a bright, eager mind connected to his, loyal and hungry for knowledge. Fostering the emotions, the _passion_ that the Sith way encouraged – that was new, and he had yet to decide what he thought of it.

By the time they reached Coruscant, Qui-Gon was wrapped in the stiflingly tight control his Master had deemed necessary to deceive the Order, feeling near smothered and stiff as he brought Tahl to the Healers. Twined close to his own Darkness, that was all he could feel as he presented himself to the Council. The debriefing went about as well as he’d come to expect.

The Council listened with brittle patience, many following Mace’s lead as the Order’s head glowered disapprovingly. “Ending the war was not your mission, Qui-Gon.”

“No. Yet it was the ultimate goal – peace.”

Ki-Adi Mundi was already shaking his head. “But to leave such a new padawan in a warzone...”

It was difficult to maintain his serenity in light of the Cerean Master’s sanctimonious disapproval. “He wished to stay, to help the Young. He knows that we are only a few days away, should he need help.” Despite Qui-Gon’s determination to be on his best behavior, he could not bite back a dry bit of chiding. “And considering the amount of effort this Council has expended in twisting my arm to take a student, the least you can do is trust my competence now that I finally have one.”

Yaddle’s cough was a bit too obviously fake, the laugh showing just enough behind her hand. Mace sent her a reproving glare as well. “As you say.”

“Trust your judgement we do,” Yoda reassured him, before leaning back a little to give Qui-Gon a contemplative look. “Thus, another task we have for you.”

* * *

Obi-Wan felt small and exhausted, standing alone on the landing pad and watching his Master disembark from the shuttle. Qui-Gon smiled at him, shaking out his robes a little to resettle them. “How have you fared, Obi-Wan?”

It took a great deal of control to not make a face. “We’re a few days from an accord – I think, if all goes as planned – and I cannot wait to leave this planet.”

Qui-Gon’s hand settled on his shoulder, the Force conveying reassurance and genuine sympathy. “There has been a rift between you and the Young?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “Nield is dead. Cerasi holds me partially responsible. She’s still working towards a permanent peace, but I’ve been shut out of a lot of the decisions, because I’m a Jedi and not a ‘real’ member of the Young, and-” Obi-Wan closed his teeth on what was starting to sound a lot like whining, to his ears. He’d always known he wouldn’t be staying, but his commitment to helping the Young was strong and sincere. Obi-Wan took a steadying breath. “It seems that friendship does not always survive a cause,” he finally settled on.

Qui-Gon’s face tightened with a sour expression, though the hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder remained gentle. “Indeed.” His voice was drier than expected, and at Obi-Wan’s curious look he sighed. “The Council thought that my presence was best used at the Temple, helping Tahl regain her feet and confidence by investigating some petty theft that’s been occurring lately.”

Obi-Wan squinted up at his master, not quite sure if he was being teased. Tahl was a Jedi Master, and impaired sight or no, that sounded less like a sop detail and more like a punishment. It certainly wouldn’t need _two_ Jedi Masters on it. Two _initiates_ , maybe. “Did...the investigation go well?” he finally asked, deciding he could play it off as going along with the joke.

Qui-Gon stared at him blankly for a moment, then snorted in amusement. “I’ve no idea. I reminded the Council that they had just been complaining about me leaving my padawan in a warzone, and I had to attend to him rather than playing detective around the Temple.” A wry grin crossed his face. “Not to mention that when I informed Tahl and asked if she wanted my help, she used the Force to throw a pot at my head. I’m still not entirely sure if she missed because she couldn’t see me, or because she wasn’t really aiming for me.”

Obi-Wan snickered, letting the warmth and comfort of his Master’s presence chase away the increasing Darkness that had hounded him this past week. “I’m sure it was intentional. And thank you, Master.”

Qui-Gon’s smile was gentle as he reached over, giving Obi-Wan’s short learner’s braid a light, teasing tug. “You are my student. I am not about to abandon you.”

Obi-Wan allowed himself another quick, impulsive hug. “Thank you, my Master,” he whispered again, glad beyond words that the Force could convey his feelings as an unsurprised Qui-Gon returned it.


End file.
